


first time

by rosewounds



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Victor, Smut, post ep 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:11:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9146248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewounds/pseuds/rosewounds
Summary: Yuuri's a virgin, Victor's not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this after getting stoned on NYE because i needed my own post-episode 7 fic lmao. Super messy, I apologize for that. Comments and criticism are welcome.

Dark blue. Bleary glances at the single source of illumination, the bedside alarm, tells Yuuri that it's 4 in the morning. Beijing has never seemed so dark, devoid of life, as it does in these awkward hours between night and day, too late to be out, too early to be up. He might be the only person in the world awake right now-- except, of course, for the movement at his side. Victor is up as well, rustling artificially cream colored sheets, impersonal and uncomfortable as all hotels get.

 

“Yuuri.” His heart catches when he hears that groggy voice, requesting him, of all people. He moves from his position on his elbows, falling back to Victor’s bare chest, hard marble with heat pulsing beneath. They’d somehow managed to fall asleep together at an early hour. Yuuri had been exhausted, pushed beyond physical exertion, so it was no surprise for him. But Victor must've held him all night to still be next to him. There's dry heat between the two, swallowed words and memories buzzing from that kiss. The only thing to surprise him. Being wanted like that is foreign.

 

“Sleep well? Are you feeling okay?” Victor inquires, and Yuuri nods, sitting up to turn on the bedside lamp, casting soft illumination. If there's ever a word to describe how he’s feeling right now, it’s need. He clears his throat, tries to push up his glasses nervously before he realizes they're not there. Questions need to be asked.

 

“Did you… really mean that, on the ice? And if so, I need you to show me. I… I can't let that go without any follow through.” There, the words are out there, hanging on a moment.

 

A pause from Victor, who’s looking at him with an expression he can't recognize-- until he realizes, this is what it means to be wanted by someone. “I wouldn't have done that to you if I didn't mean it. You professed your love for me to national television, I very well intend on doing the same.” Love, huh. Scary words they're using. But it's true. It's a genuine feeling. “Now, if we're talking about follow through… we’re alone in bed together. Why don't you make your own moves?”

 

Yuuri’s been looking at him the entire time, staring really, his palm against that pale neck. Permission was all he needed, and he nearly falls forward in how fast he's trying to get his lips on Victor’s. It's electrifying, it feels out of body, out of his mind, even. Victor’s smooth and experienced and ready for him, arms around the younger’s back, feeling through the cotton shirt. There wasn't anything innocent about these kisses to begin with-- Yuuri’s nearly frantic about getting close enough to him, as if mouth-to-mouth isn't the closest there can be. Not quite, at least. His knees somehow land on either side of his coach’s narrow hips, and his back is arched, shirt billowing forward from the extra room, where it's caught at the hems and lifted up over his head by the ever-gentle man beneath him.

 

Now they're both matched, down to their underwear. The kisses make Yuuri feel drunk or drowning or both, his face numb and hot to the touch, panting after more of those lips. How can he get enough? He steals another kiss as he's pressing his hips into Victor’s, friction coursing through the both of them. It's stunning, the reciprocation he's receiving, the fact that he can feel how hard Victor is. Another thrust of his hips, awkward at first, and there's a chuckle from below. “Why don't you give us both a second, Yuuri? I’ll be back, let me get what we need.”

 

The minutes that pass lead up to an assortment of condoms and a bottle of lube scattered on the bed, next to the scantily-clad Victor. Yuuri feels like he might actually die. Is this what sex feels like? Dying? He's a virgin, of course. Victor’s not. He's had 27 years to make memories. But tonight, Yuuri wants to stake a new claim, bigger and better than any others before him. If his hands could stop shaking, maybe he could get there. Crawling up between Victor’s thighs-- were those parted in invitation?-- Yuuri places his hands on broad shoulders, drawing out more kisses, taking his time with soft licks and gentle nips that lead down the pale columns of the man’s throat. He earns a moan for his efforts, guiding hands showing him how to move in this frotting session. Yuuri could probably go on like this for hours, but Victor’s impatient, a tight grip on Yuuri’s cute ass, followed by the utterance: “take your time, really, but also please fuck me.”

 

He nearly choked, but was able to give a nervous laugh in response, finally getting his hands down Victor’s tight briefs and gripping his cock tight, pumping out rough strokes that have the older man keening. Both of their underwear is peeled off, but Victor is a lot less modest about stealing glances, opting for full on staring instead. “Down, boy.” Yuuri commands with a playful hand on Victor’s chest, getting him to lie down while he gathers his bearings- and his lube. The gel is a lot colder than he expected, and he rubs it between his fingers before allowing the older man’s guiding hand to press it at the cleft between his thighs, sinking one inside. It's a lot tighter and hotter than he expected-- how is he gonna fit much more inside? But Victor tips his head back and moans, rolling his hips down, and it seems that they can make it fit. 

 

More kisses, more finger-fucking. Preparation seems to be taking an eternity, at least for over-eager and under-experienced Yuuri. “Kay, c’mere. Put this on.” Victor commands breathlessly before he tears open a condom, pulls Yuuri closer _by_ his dick and rolls it on. There's not even enough time to respond to every individual moment of this experience, it's sensory overload, and so Yuuri just coats himself in lube and pushes in. Another unbearable feat. He's shaking, heat coiled in his stomach, thighs tense, face buried in the bottom’s shoulder while he shifts his weight from his arms to his knees. Grabbing Victor by the thighs, he pulls them around his waist, fucking into him deep, revelling in the cries and scratches he gets in response.

 

Yuuri ends up on his back, watching in awe as Victor seats himself in his lap, pressed in to the hilt. Victor’s abs are clenched, thighs spread, he's undeniably hung, and his head is tipped back, groaning as his hips rock. It’s too much to bear, honestly, anyone would cum from this scenario. Yuuri nearly breaks with his orgasm, hoarse cries escaping as he arches, thrusting upwards. “Oh, Yuuri… was it that good?” He's being teased, he knows it, but Victor climbs off of him, helps him tie off the condom while he catches his breath. 

 

“Not to be crude, but can you put your mouth on it? I’d love to get off, too.”

 

Talk about bottoming from the top. Anyone trying to fuck Victor is likely to end up being the one getting fucked. Yuuri decides he might be a bottom, after all.


End file.
